When You're Gone
by began-to-climb
Summary: It was exaclty as he had pictured it. The dead streets, the tumbleweed of paper, the lone pack of people. It was his dream, except something was different. Paire, AU, semicesty. Character death.


**Name: **When You're Gone

**Rating: **PG-9

**Summary: **It was exactly as he had pictured it. The dead streets, the tumbleweed of papers, the lone pack of people fleeing the sight of destruction. It was his dream, but the circumstances were different.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. The song, When You're Gone, belongs to Avril Lavigne.

**Authors Note: **My view on something that could happen in the season finale; it in _no way_ is a spoiler.

XXXX

_I always needed time on my own_

_I never thought I'd need you there when I cried_

_And the days feel like years when I'm alone_

_And the bed where you lie_

_Is made up on your side_

_When you walk away_

_I count the steps you walk_

_Do you see how much I need you right now?_

It had been exactly what he'd pictured. The evacuated streets, the tumbleweed of papers, the maze of abandoned cars with their engines still running, the bicycle tires still spinning, the dead calm of the blue city, his friends fleeing the sight of destruction…the pain as his entire body exploded. It had been his dream, except the consequences had been different.

New York City was safe, as was everything else in the immediate proximity. No innocent lives were lost. They had managed to stop the catastrophe that was slated to happen against their power. They'd earned their title of heroes.

He buried his head in the pillow, muffling the sound as tears spilled down his cheeks, masking the sob rolling out as a hiccup he couldn't control. He was alive. His brother was alive. His friends were alive. They'd been with him at his moment of dire need. They'd been at his side. She'd held his hand as his fear grew. She'd spoken calm words in his ear despite the panic edged in her own voice. He breathed through parted lips, his stained cheeks wetting the fabric of the pillow.

She'd been with him.

_She shouted his name, her voice becoming fainter and fainter in the wind as she was dragged away from him, dragged to the safety that she wanted to escape from. As she screamed, wailing in faithful arms, Peter stared at her, his lungs gulping for air as panic overpowered him. He knew the fear etched in her eyes matched his; she was as terrified for his life as he was for hers. He needed her to be gone. He needed her to safe so he could do this without thinking about her. _

_She whipped around, glaring at her restraint. "Let me go." she snarled._

_"We have to go." She shook her head, disregarding the words with a simple glance at him. She tried to hide her quivering lips. "He'll kill you."_

_She knew that was right. Maybe she wouldn't make it out of this. But wasn't that what was going to happen anyway? They were the heroes. Who said they were supposed to live to see their victory? "We all die anyway, right? I want to be with him so he isn't alone. He can't be alone. I won't let you take me away from him."_

_Her words punctured the air, startling the recipient, the strength in the words stunning even herself. The grip on her arm weakened, giving her the opportune moment to escape the face of resistance. She slipped away, weaving through the tangle of scattered vehicles, running back to him. She was running the path she was trained not to, but following what her heart was. Her eyes bulged at the sight of him, alone and frightened. He was glowing. His hands, drawn close to his face, were radiating a bright red light. _

_Her breaths became ragged, not only from fear, but also from the helplessness she felt. She knew she couldn't do anything to stop what was meant to. Yet, in the back of her mind, she also knew that there was always an alternate, a second side to every story. She screamed his name. _

_Peter's whole body lit to form a red orb, the equivalent of the sun on fire. He looked up; his head tilted back, his ember eyes focused on the sky above him. The sun was in a perfect eclipse. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but didn't acknowledge the presence. It wasn't a stranger. A stranger's touch couldn't feel so familiar. Her voice rung in his head, shattering any chance at solace. _

_She reached him, her eyes flickering between both of them. Nathan scowled disapprovingly at her, for once agreeing with his younger brother that her presence would only complicate this act. But this was their place; a torn family in the midst of chaos, trying to right each other's wrongs, sacrificing for that. Peter gazed at her, his doleful eyes now ripped with mature understanding. There was only a tint of lingering fear. "Claire…"_

_She shook her head. She knew what was coming to come out of him, but she wasn't going to follow his orders this time. "Don't start." _

_He winced, doubling over slightly. The light reached her face. "Please, go."_

_"Listen to him." Nathan ordered._

_"No." She looked at them both, the people she'd been separated from. The people that she'd wanted for so long, but was now being taken away from again. This wasn't a fight she was going to lose. "We're family." _

_Her chestnut eyes shifted to him. Peter gulped. The pain was overwhelming. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched, and commanded himself to sustain the pain for just a few minutes longer. Just a few more moments with what he was being forced to give up. She took his hand, her delicate hand fitting perfectly in his rougher one, shaking him out of his reverie. _

_She tried to smile at him as the pain transferred to her, giving her a small taste of what he was feeling. "I'm not leaving you."_

The last thing he remembered was staring into her eyes. He couldn't even remember if she screamed or not. There were things he couldn't remember about what happened directly after and things that he could. He remembered that they'd been flying when the explosion tore them down. He remembered fainting from exhaustion. He remembered screaming as he woke; the after volts still violently throbbing in his body. And he remembered breaking down shortly after. Everything after that he tried not to remember. Everything after that changed him.

_When you're gone_

_The pieces of my heart are missing you_

_When you're gone_

_The face I came to know is missing too_

_When you're gone_

_All the words I need to hear always get me through the day_

_And makes it okay_

_I miss you_

He rolled over, resting his weak body on its side, tucking one arm under the pillow as he stared out the window. A lock of black hair fell across his eyes, but he didn't swipe it away. Petals of ice floated from the black sky, shading the dense window gray as the glass fogged from the sudden change. A lump formed in his throat at the sight; it was her first snow. Staring blankly out into the dense coating, the earth still to listen, he thought that the slate was being buried. All the bad things were being exterminated. A new beginning was coming. He hadn't moved, hadn't willed himself to move in three days. He couldn't believe that it was all over.

As hard as it had been, he would redo it all. He had saved the world, but, in the end, he hadn't been able to save her.

_After he stopped screaming, Peter realized she wasn't breathing. She wasn't moving._

_"Claire, open your eyes. Come on, please wake up." _

_His words melted away any confidence and calmness that he had tried to preserve during the explosion. It now came out as a woeful pleading, disoriented and inaudible, mere whimpers as his eyes turned moist. He lightly patted her cheek, shaking her shoulder roughly, but she remained unresponsive. Her skin, once warm to the touch, was cold, sending a shudder down Peter's spine. His breath hitched in his throat. She was dead. _

_He swallowed, his hand leaving her shoulder to stroke her golden curls. "Claire, please wake up. You can't leave me like this. Please, please, wake up."_

_Nathan squeezed her hand, nodding when his brother shot him a silent question of approval. A hand on either cheek, Peter closed his eyes, concentrating on unearthing the power she had given him. He would heal her with her own power; he tried and he tried, his body beginning to tremble uncontrollably. He wanted her to breathe; he needed her to breathe._

_"Please." he whispered, a tear leaking down his cheek._

_"Hey you."_

She hadn't been part of the plan. She'd burst in and foiled the insecure perfection that they'd mastered. He didn't even know why he'd let her stay. It was a bad choice. He could've easily pushed her away, shoved her into someone else who would've taken her to the place where he couldn't touch her. But he hadn't done that. He'd been selfish.

The realization that she was actually gone had taken days to fully register with him. For weeks she'd been the cheerleader, nothing but phantom that he had to save, but then a face had been put to the title. After that nothing had been the same. Too quickly she'd become the important thing in his life. She was his family, his best friend and his love. Life continued on without him outside the bedroom, a meticulous act of putting back the pieces of their lives slowly beginning. He had nothing to put back together.

_I've never felt this way before_

_Everything that I do_

_Reminds me of you_

_And the clothes you left_

_They lie on the floor_

_And they smell just like you_

_I love the things that you do_

_When you walk away_

_I count the steps that you take_

_Do you see how much I need you right now?_

His apartment was too silent to return to. The remaining heroes had convinced him to stay at the safe house, worried about his emotional instability, nervous that the pain would spill over into physical action. They kept their eyes on him, watching him as if he'd break if anyone mentioned her name. No one mentioned her name, not around him. So he retreated to one of the bedrooms, only reappearing for a minimum amount of things. He didn't sleep much. When he did he'd wake screaming, coated in sweat, subconsciously expecting her to be next to him like she always was after a nightmare. She haunted him, haunted by the guilt of not being able to do more to save her, haunted by the last words she'd given him.

_Her eyes drooped alarmingly, causing panic to pitch through Peter. He rattled her. "Claire? Come on. Stay with me."_

_She buried her face in his chest, her weak grip on his hand loosening, groaning. "I'm so tired."_

_Peter stroked her hair, pulling her closer to him so she was cradled in his lap. "I know you are, but you need to stay awake, okay? Nathan's going to get us home."_

_She shook her head, her breathing shallow. "I can't."_

_Her eyelids dropped, giving her a moment of exhausted peace before Peter shook her back. "Stay awake, you here me!"_

_She recognized the anger in his voice. She'd heard it many times. It was always a mockery of the actual emotion; it was common for him to disguise the real emotion boiling on the surface with anger. It was a method, she knew, to keep from losing control in the most uncontrollable situations. She was uncontrollable; she knew how to read him. _

_Staring up at him, slightly leaning into his touch as he wiped away a trickle of blood dribbling down from her lips, his face was hardened but his eyes betrayed him. She could feel his pain. It was strong and he was resilient. She reached up and stroked her thumb over his arm, skin-to-skin contact due to the holes in his leather jacket. _

_"I felt it too." she whispered. _

_"Claire?" The name came out of his lips, questioning only for the sake of Nathan beside him. He knew exactly what she was referring to. _

_She smiled weakly up at him. "Take care of him for me." she cooed softly, her eyes briefly fleeting to Nathan, squeezing his hand still encased in hers. _

_Nathan nodded, ignoring Peter's incredulous look. "Claire, no. Don't say that. You're still going to be around. You have to be. We…" _

_Claire's head lolled to the side, her hand traveling up to play with his hair, unable to look him in the eye anymore. Slowly, she drew him down to her level, her lips brushing his ear, resting there in the most intimate embrace they could have in the public's eye. _

_"You're totally my hero." she breathed in his ear, her eyes closing._

The tears had unsheathed and, for the first time, he didn't care that he was vulnerable. Even in front of his brother. Losing Claire had been nothing like watching Simone die. He hated himself for saying it, or even thinking it, but the truth was rarely pure and never simple.

Yet knowing the truth hadn't prepared him for anything that happened after. He hadn't been prepared to carry Claire's limp form, his leather jacket respectively covering her body, through the safe house threshold, sweeping past the line of friends and family. He hadn't been prepared for their silence or their eyes swimming with sympathy as they watched him. He hadn't been prepared for how easy it was to hold himself together in front of them as he took her downstairs. He hadn't been prepared for the last few minutes he'd been given to say good-bye to her. And he hadn't been prepared to sob hysterically next to her corpse.

_When you're gone_

_The pieces of my heart are missing you_

_When you're gone_

_The face I came to know is missing too_

_When you're gone_

_All the words I need to hear always get me through the day_

_And makes it okay_

_I miss you_

The explosion had been weaker than he remembered it being in his dream. For days he had organized reasons why he'd survived and she'd been the only casualty, burying himself mentally in possibilities. He wanted the question to be limited to him, wanted his friends to give him the closure he needed, but it seemed that the debate continued outside the bedroom. The official theory had only risen the day before, a week after Claire's death: she shared her ability with him and, in turn, she'd taken some of the volatile radiation from him, stealing it to lessen his pain. She'd wasted all of her energy and life force to save him and Nathan.

He pulled the pillow closer to his body, securing it under his chin, hugging the surrogate comfort. Why had she done it? She'd known she wasn't going to survive the explosion if she went with him. So why had she sacrificed herself for him? He hadn't asked her to—maybe she'd known exactly what he would've said if she let on what her plan was. Maybe that was the reason for the night before. She knew that she wouldn't get to see another morning so she made best with the rest of her time. She spent her last night with him.

_We were made for each other_

_Out here forever_

_I know we were_

_Yeah, yeah_

_All I even wanted was for you to know_

_Everything I do I give my heart and soul_

_I can hardly breathe I need to feel you here with me_

_Yeah_

The night before the explosion was an ominous one. The safe house was silent. The city outside, unfortunately, was not. The plan was in motion. In the morning Nathan would order an immediate evacuation of the immediate vicinity. The city would be a ghost; no one would get hurt. The heroes stumbled around the refuge, their last dinner together finished with, cooping themselves in their rooms with loved ones or partaking in the poker game being played in the game room. Peter listened to Claude lecturing Hiro and Ando about the techniques of bluffing, his sneer still gruff with cynicism, and continued to flip through the channels before switching the television screen into blackness.

The knock on the door surprised him. He peeked out through the finger raked over his face, the thoughts plaguing his paranoia evaporating the minute the second knock sounded. Rolling off the bed, clicking on a shadowy lamp in the process, he ambled across the room to the door. Claire stood in the hallway, blonde hair pulled away from her face that was marked with an at-ease loneliness, gazing up at him when she was granted entranced.

Her movements were imperceptible and meticulous, advancing slyly on him, her eyes charming him with that bittersweet allure that always rendered him weak-kneed. She slid her hand up his arm, not uttering a word to explain what she was doing. And a part of him didn't care that there was no explanation being offered; the mystery of the act was seducing. His arms instinctively encased her small waist when she pressed her body to his, winding her arms around his neck. Then her lips were no his.

He didn't think about how compromising the embrace looked to anyone passing the room or how their age difference forbade this as he deepened the kiss. Closing the door, he faltered against her velvet lips and forgot about everything else. He didn't want to be alone and he could feel that same yearning in her. She moaned and met his dancing tongue, exploring the cavities of his mouth. At the unexpected progress, his heart beat hastened, thumping loudly in his chest.

Then she drew back, staring into his eyes. There wasn't a question in them as she had expected. After that kiss, the answer shone too clearly for the question to even matter. He ran his thumb along her swollen lips and rested his forehead against hers, not pushing her out of his arms.

She sighed, closing her eyes. "Did you feel that?"

He didn't ask her what she meant. He just nodded, choking. "Yes."

She smiled, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his head. "I felt it too."

_When you're gone_

_The pieces of my heart are missing you_

_When you're gone_

_The face I came to know is missing too_

_When you're gone_

_All the words I need to hear always get me through the day_

_And makes it okay_

_I miss you_

He was in love with her and hadn't admitted it until that night. It was the last night he had the opportunity and she knew it too. She hadn't left the room till the morning. Looking back, he should've felt in her touch. She'd kissed him like a woman that knew she was about to lose everything. Had he only known it then than maybe he could've saved her. Yet, as much as he analyzed and sought reasons and ways he could've prevented her from sacrificing her life for his, it was futile. He knew that picking up after her death was going to be difficult, even with the reassurances that he would move on coming cryptically from her mouth, but the feat was harder than mere words.

Peter mustered all his strength to sit up, palms braced on the mattress on either side of him, and stood on shaking legs, crossing the room to the window. The snow continued to fall, coating the city beautifully, coming down in large flakes. He sprinkled his fingers on the window, not even flinching at the frigid glass sparking him, and stared outside. She would've loved the snow.

_I miss you. _

XXXX

FINIS.


End file.
